


bad blood gypsies~

by yellowsuns



Series: ShuriShelby [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Peaky Blinders RPF
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/M, Mild Language, Rare Pairings, Tommy is all kinds of confused, and I hope that transcends through lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowsuns/pseuds/yellowsuns
Summary: Simple. Tommy Shelby isn't Tommy Shelby if he's not vying for a good lay here and a drink there.





	bad blood gypsies~

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [She deserves a harem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252129) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 

> For self-gratification as well as for our small little shippers of ShuriShelby ...

* * *

Tommy’s not one to play unfairly, well sometimes, but for god sakes he just wants the world at his feet. The Udaku family however, he could do with another competition, especially when they’ve been non-existent until then, and it seems they too have taken a liking to horses. He’s been watching them for a while. In fact, he’s been watching them since they tampered with his bar, strolling up to Birmingham like they meant top dog business. They didn’t have a clue who ran that shit for nothing town. _His _little town.

He thinks that perhaps they should stick to what they know best, guerrilla fight clubs, but he’s at a lost for words for the woman that is now perched tightly beside who he can only assume is her father.

She’s a temptress that one. Parading around at the races making the other lasses sneer at her boldness, at her crassness, the irony of it all. She has skin like chocolate mousse, the type crafted just right it glistens off the pricey sponge cakes Finn likes so much. He wonders what it would be like to taste it off her skin, but then she’s whisked away by a copper, dark, like her, and he roots himself in the reality that there’s no existing chance. No fucking chance is he winning both the girl and the races today. But it’s not the world he wants at his feet anymore, he wants the girl. The races can fuck themselves.

“Tommy! What are ya’ doing here?”

“Tell Johnny Boy to bring the car around, our business here is done,” he mutters, eyes still glued to the bronze maiden, whose laugh is a bit too airy and too innocent for his taste. But he finds that he’d soon stroke his cock off to the sound of her giggle and the glisten of her neck. He hasn’t even fucking met her yet.

“What ‘you on about Tommy?”

“Arthur,” he says, menacingly, his icy blue gaze now holding his brothers’, “tell Johnny Boy to bring the fucking car around, plans have changed.”

“You know what you’re doing Tom-“

“Just get the fucking car Arthur! Go!”

His outburst earns a few glances, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care for Arthur’s hesitance, doesn’t care for her brothers’ provocation in the clench of his jaw, because now he has her attention.

Their eyes meet. His breath hitches, and there has never been a day nor a moment since Grace, has his breath stop short from his lungs. His resolve gives, he swallows in his throat and his lips purses, a means to show his disposition. Because he’s at a crossroads where finally, another has taken his breath as easily as he gives at pulling a trigger, and the freedom of it alone terrifies him. Even as the assuring burn of his wedding ring reminds him, he, for the first time, is scared of another that would take his heart, because he can already tell. He can already fucking tell that he’s about to go under. He finishes the last lick of his whiskey, turns his back to the subject of his nightmares, throws two fresh fifty pounds towards the barman and strolls his arse out of there.

He’s in it now. It’s not fair, but he’s for sure drowning in it now.


End file.
